Harrowed Allegiance
by DarkEclipse45
Summary: He may have been called kind-hearted. But above all else, Cormag was a a vindictive man. In his heart, he still loved his country, but it was dead to him. Only killing the man who destroyed the only thing he had ever known and loved would bring him peace.


**Author's Note:** Okay, I KNOW that this isn't the next chapter of my Zelgius story that some of you were expecting, but I've had this planned for quite a while and I couldn't wait any longer to get it out. The new chapter of Dark Destiny will likely be out by Friday or Saturday, though. And on a completely unrelated note, today _is_ my birthday, so kudos to anyone who can make a guess at my age :D

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><p><em><strong>Harrowed Allegiance<strong>_

His eyes, sharp as a hawk and the same dark blue as his armor and the very wyvern he rode, swept across the battlefield. His body was tenser than it had ever been before and his knuckles were white from gripping the killer lance in his left hand for so long. While his vision was clear and his path across the ocean unobstructed, his mind and heart were at war with each other.

_I shouldn't be here,_ Cormag told himself. _If it wasn't for the orders of the Emperor, I would have followed my brother north to Carcino and in route to capture Princess Eirika._

But by the army's regulations, he was required to be here. He had been given charge of the guerilla force used to flush the enemy out of hiding before the ground troops ran them down. General Selena had been the one to charge him with this duty, this horribly iniquitous obstruction of justice, one that should not have been ordered in the first place.

"_Wait, we're fighting General Duessel? Because he has allegedly turned traitor?" Never in Cormag's life had he heard such an absurd farce. "But he's one of the cornerstones of the Empire. How could—he's been like a father to both you and to my brother! Do you truly mean to kill him?"_

_Selena's eyes, sad but determined with the sense of undying loyalty she was so famous for, took a moment to answer. "If that is what our emperor commands, then yes. Without hesitation."_

"_This is absolutely ridiculous," Cormag objected._

_Selena turned her horse back in the direction of the gate. "Cormag, I will not repeat myself. If you are a true knight of Grado, then you will do the same as I."_

He should have argued with her more. Pleaded her to change her mind and reconcile differences with both General Duessel and the Emperor. But it was not a knight's place to rebuke orders given a general, no matter how absurd and unethical they may be.

Being a soldier was Cormag's duty. His life. His oath. He had never known anything else. For his own honor, he must hold that above all else.

Even if it went against everything he had been taught as soldier, his own morals and everything he believed in?

The doubt tore at him. The battle was not progressing well for Grado and Prince Ephraim's troops were proving to be superior to the Grado soldiers in every aspect. General Duessel remained untouched, giving more than just spoken credence to his name.

Cormag was at a loss. "Brother, what should I do? What would _you_ do?"

But he found neither answers nor comfort, only emptiness and confusion.

If he continued to sit here on the southeastern island like a lump, watching his countrymen slaughtered like livestock, he was going to end up besmirching his name and his country no matter his own reservations. While he decided that he would not attack General Duessel, he could at least fly around to the east of the gate and ambush the enemies to the north.

Cormag turned to the wingman on his right and urged Genarog forward. "Follow me. We'll bury the enemies in the distance before they even know we're there. We'll show them the fabled ferocity of Grado's Wyvern Knights."

They were off in seconds, flying to the northeast and around the gate, Cormag in the lead, with a wingman on either side him. As they circled around he told both of his comrades to split up and soar higher. A wyvern rider's best strategy in combat was to gain altitude and distance over the enemy, thus giving the opportunity to plummet down and give the enemy no time to react.

Cormag was about to the same, zeroing in on a mounted archer that threatened to bring his comrades down, when a Pegasus knight shot down out of the clouds and blocked his path, hovering right in front of him. Cormag yanked violently on the reins and Genarog roared in response, pulling to halt not three feet away from the Pegasus knight. The rider was no more than a girl, barely older than twenty perhaps. What in the world was this girl thinking? Did she really think that she stood a chance alone against him?

"Wait," she said suddenly, winging closer to him. Her voice was just as youthful as her appearance. "Please stop fighting. I'm sure we can reach an agreement if we just talk."

Talk? _Talk_? She wanted to talk _now_? To him, a stranger, more importantly an enemy, in the middle of the battlefield, where there were so many weapons flying around propelled by emotions that made them all the more dangerous? Casual conversation was hardly appropriate on the battlefield. Was this girl touched in the head or something?

But it was discourteous to refuse a request from a lady, especially a girl. He should, at least, hear her out. "And you are?" he asked cautiously.

"My name is Tana," she replied. "You're from Grado, aren't you?"

"And if I am?" Cormag raised his lance up to his chest.

"Why are you fighting General Duessel?" she asked.

Her question caught him by surprise. "That's none of your—"

"Do you hate him?" she asked innocently, as if talking with him was the most natural thing in the world.

Cormag hesitated before answering. "Do I hate him? This isn't some petty schoolyard squabble, girl. I'm a soldier of the empire and I have my orders. I've been sent to punish a traitor and that's what I aim to do."

The girl, as perceptive as she was obstinate, didn't believe his lie for one second. "That's not true," she said. "Even now, I can see that above all else, you seek to avoid combat with him because deep down you know that he isn't what your emperor has said he is."

"Listen, you—"

"Are you telling me that General Duessel is a traitor? Don't you know him? Do you think that's really true?"

How was she reading through him so quickly? "What I think isn't at question," he argued. "Faith does not dictate my actions. I have my orders."

"But Ephraim trusts your General Duessel," the girl insisted. "He's given him the benefit of the doubt. Have you chosen not to believe his reasons for his actions?"

"Get out of my way!" Cormag cried. He had heard quite enough of this. The girl's words were doing nothing to help his situation. "I'll waste no more time in this duel of words!" He directed Genarog higher, hoping to glide over the girl, but again she intercepted him just as swiftly as before.

"Wait!" she cried. "Please…protect General Duessel. It would be tragic if he died before his motives became clear."

Strangely enough, her words, and particularly the youth with which she spoke them, brought him peace. Calmer now, Cormag took a deep breath. "Move, please. If you won't get out of my way, I'll have to move you by force."

The girl prepared herself by raising in her own lance. Her bravery surprised even him. "Very well. If you must. But in exchange, I'm asking you to believe General Duessel."

"You're an odd bird." Cormag sighed in defeat and lowered his lance. This girl sure had a way with words. "To think I'd lose a fight not to a man's sword but to a woman's words…"

The girl smiled for the first time during their encounter. "What? Are you saying that—?"

"You win," Cormag said. "I will protect General Duessel. But I plan on sorting this whole mess out with the general himself."

"Do you truly mean that?" the girl asked hopefully.

Cormag gave her a curt nod. "I don't know if this is the right thing to do or not. But I think that this is what my brother would have done. If I stay true to that, then perhaps I can discover the truth behind this."

The girl's—no, Tana's face, beamed. "Sir Knight, may I ask your name?"

"Cormag," he replied. "But I would remind you that I have no intention of getting friendly with you until this matter is settled and I've discussed things with General Duessel. I assure you, Tana, if I find that any word you've spoken to me to be false, my retribution will be swift and brutal. Are we clear on this?"

Tana nodded vigorously. "Of course. I do hope you know that every word I have spoken to you applies to General Duessel just the same."

That was the end of their conversation then and there, and Cormag soon learned that Tana's words proved to be true in all respects. No half-truths had been given and when Cormag spoke to General Duessel, the Obsidian confirmed everything. Duessel still possessed his fierce loyalty to Grado, albeit a bit less now, from what Cormag could see. He was the same old Duessel and never again would Cormag question the loyalty of his general, regardless of the fact that they were both traitors now.

Things only proceeded to get worse after that. The strong support Cormag found in General Duessel and the casual friendship he had formed with Tana didn't help in the slightest. Everywhere Cormag looked his country was stricken and torn by war. Nothing was done to ease the suffering of the people and Grado's soldiers charged blindly in at Ephraim's troops without a care for their own lives, seeking only to fight for the lord that they still believed in. The worst part of it was that when they saw their own countrymen, their steadfast general and the well-loved brother of the Sunstone fighting on the side of their enemy, there were such looks of hate and disgust in their eyes. The others failed to notice it and be they from Renais or Frelia or wherever, they cut them down without a second thought before pressing on. While General Duessel did the same, likely to still show his loyalty to Ephraim, Cormag could not. These were his friends, men who he had called brothers-in-arms, ones he had been a recruit with so many years ago. He could not, would not, strike them down because of his sense of justice. Only when his former countrymen would not yield would he defend himself.

All of it did more than make his heart ache. It began to eat at his being, his very soul, each time he raised his lance. It was destroying him and Cormag could not decide whether to listen to his mind or his heart. His mind told him that the sensible thing was to turn back and rejoin the Grado ranks as a traitor and be able to fight for what honor he still had left; his heart told him that what he was doing was right, that he was still fighting for not only his own honor, but for General Duessel's as well. The conflict within began to kill him. His gentle spirit began to die and it didn't help that the companionship amongst the others in the army made his own aloofness and anguish that much more terrible.

And so Cormag distanced himself, associating very little with the others in the army, save for General Duessel and on occasion the kind-hearted and beautiful Princess from Frelia who had recruited him in the first place. For whatever reason, her presence soothed him and gave him a reason to keep on fighting. She knew the war was wrong and how much it affected him. Her cheerfulness always managed to make him smile and bring him out of his dark mood for a few moments. But Cormag did not speak to the other soldiers hardly at all, even the other few that hailed from Grado, let alone Prince Ephraim. As one of the only remaining scions of Fado, the famed Peerless Warrior King, Ephraim was brave, true and possessed an undying heart that rivaled and likely surpassed that of his father. But he was young and arrogant, too reckless in the way he fought and how he interacted with others, and Cormag despised that about his character. While the Obsidian had trained the prince himself and taught him what it meant to be a leader, in Cormag's eyes Ephraim lacked the surety and elegance that was befitting of a true general. Cormag didn't like to judge men before he truly knew their character, but he was a man of first impressions and he would not pledge his loyalty to a man he did not trust. Cormag, though his sense of honor was more than horribly askew at the moment, still only answered to one liege and the general that he had admired as much as his brother since he was a child.

General Duessel had freely joined the Frelian Army and bent his knee to Ephraim, pledging his obedience, but still Cormag sensed that the man was yet without a purpose. For a man of Duessel's stature and steadfast loyalty to Grado, turning traitor would no doubt weaken his resolve. He didn't seem to possess the passion and fervor he once had as the Obsidian. He was suffering day by day, far more than Cormag was, conflicted between the vows he had sworn to his emperor and the ones he currently owed to Ephraim. It was such a terrible thing to see, the pillar of Grado's armies slipping away into despair. If a man of his caliber could eventually succumb to madness and dejection, Cormag wondered how much longer he would hold up.

The battle in the marshes came and went just days after the army had taken the portside city of Taizel. Waged in late morning, it was over before the day was out and not a single survivor of Grado's army was left to tell the gruesome tale. Weapons clashed and blood was spilled. The rivers ran red with it; blood of Cormag's own countryman, their deaths wrought by two of the finest men their army had ever known. General Selena herself had been in command and not once had she faltered in her defense of the road that led to the capital. General Duessel himself had been the one to strike her down. Cormag could not bear to look at her broken and mangled corpse as he glided over the bogs and continued east. The more he pictured her, the more tears that came to his eyes. It was as if he had been the one who killed her, since he had done nothing to save her.

Cormag couldn't blame General Duessel for Selena's death. He could only blame himself.

_What in the world am I fighting for?_ Cormag wondered.

What was General Duessel fighting for?

Selena had a purpose just as those in Ephraim's army did. Ephraim's troops were fighting in the name of all free peoples of Magvel and the chance to avenge the massacres and destruction that had brought Renais to its knees. But Selena's purpose had been a perpetual loyalty and love to an emperor who no longer cared whether or not his subjects lived or died. Like her, though she likely failed to realize it at the end, they were nothing more than pawns in his games of war and madness. Had Cormag and Duessel been any more than that? Selena had certainly not believed so.

How many more innocent people must die alongside the wicked?

_Anger._

Yes, anger. At one time Cormag's only feelings had been confusion, doubt and an unrelenting passion to find out the truth behind this war and the deaths therein. But now, especially with General Selena's needless death, all of that was lost and replaced with bottomless grief and despair. Grief and despair led to fury and vengeance. Cormag no longer cared if he lost himself in his rage; he would have vengeance. He would kill everyone who had defiled the once beautiful visage that Grado once boasted for so many years. Twisted it. Warped it beyond all recognition. They were all to blame: bloodthirsty Valter, war hungry Caellach, the disgusting heretic Riev, even the Imperial Prince Lyon. The prince, most of all, was the one to blame out of that group. He had done nothing to put a stop to his father's lunacy.

But even killing all of them would not solve a thing. No, the only way to truly end this madness once and for all was to cut the head off of the snake who led this mad band of fools.

_Kill the man who started all of this!_ A voice screamed.

_Yes_! Slay the Emperor! Of course. Ending the war would be that simple.

Simple for a man who wasn't killing himself every time he raised his lance.

Because could he really do that? Could Cormag really force himself to strike down the man who had given both he and his brother lives as soldiers, taught them the morals and values that they still had to this day?

He had his answer soon enough. Using all of the momentum they had gathered from the battle in the marshes, Ephraim's army was soon on the route that led to the Imperial Capital. They were there in less than a day and met with little to no resistance; the remaining soldiers were likely all still holed up in Grado Keep.

It had been weeks since Cormag had visited the palace. Not since the war had begun and Glen was sent off to Carcino to pursue Princess Eirika. It remained a perfect picture of elegance and power, a strange combination given Grado's past and its current predicament, but a suitable one nonetheless. Never had Cormag thought that he would return not in the way of a frightened child seeking the comforts of a home, but as a wrathful man who intended to bring down the darkened lord whose madness corrupted the castle's beauty. The black stone stood in perfect contrast to the green of the fields around it, both untouched by the war's ire.

Prince Ephraim claimed to hold a special attachment to this place, as he often talked of the fond memories he had spent here with his sister and the Imperial Prince Lyon. The man was a fool and could never truly understand what it meant for the soldiers that had called Grado their home for so many years. This struck Cormag as odd because, if people were so drawn to Ephraim's character and personality, why was the man blatantly ignoring the ones who loved their country as much as he loved his, the ones who were suffering so much more?

It was like he didn't even care. All he cared about was taking revenge on the man responsible for _his_ father's death and satisfying _his_ need for the retribution of his country. He spared not a thought for Duessel, Cormag or any of the others who were fighting for truth and peace of mind, not just vengeance.

Cormag had told both Tana and General Duessel of his plan. He didn't know why he had done it but both of them had agreed that it was more than ludicrous. General Duessel saw it as completely unnecessary and arrogant, a wish propelled by anger and desperation that would never solve anything. Even after slaying Selena and so many of his countrymen, Duessel would still not raise his axe against his emperor. Tana saw it as hopeless, that there was no way Cormag would win alone when he tilted lances with the emperor. With tears in her eyes, she begged him, implored him to reconsider and while Cormag could admire her childish naivety, his mind was made up.

He would do this alone, for the sake of not only himself, but for General Duessel and all the others who loved their Emperor. If he truly loved his emperor, then he would not hesitate to do what was right. He would not allow Prince Ephraim or anyone else to get in his way.

Cormag stopped at the front gate of the palace as the others in the army flooded through and pushed aside any resistance they met. He stared blankly up at the palace walls for a brief moment. Inside Emperor Vigarde waited, likely with several of his generals by his side. Secretly Cormag was glad that his brother was not here, for he did not think that he could fully explain to him as to why he had broken his vows. He dismounted and approached the gate, the last one of the army to go through. He took only his killer lance and a javelin, strapping the latter across his back.

Something nudged him from behind and Cormag turned back. Genarog growled when he turned, clearly upset that his master intended to leave him behind. While Cormag shared the same sentiments, this was his only choice.

"I'm sorry, partner, but I can't take you with me," he said solemnly, stroking the wyvern's muzzle with his free hand. "I know that I would be better protected with you at my side, but I can't even bring you farther into the palace past the courtyard. I'll be back for you, I promise."

Then he was through the gate, charging and screaming like a madman, brandishing his lance in both hands. Cormag ran as if possessed, letting free his anger and frustration for this hopeless situation he had placed himself in by impaling anyone who got in his way. He closed his mind to everything except the moment, forcing himself not to think about all of his former comrades that he was striking down. Strangely enough, it didn't matter to him anymore. He had to reach the throne and confront Emperor Vigarde before anyone else was needlessly killed. It was ironic because he was killing with no true malice because he didn't want anyone else to be killed. He had soon outdistanced all of the others and was through the main courtyard, the fountains within running red with blood and the lush green flora scorched black and completely incinerated by the many fire spells flying from the fingertips of the mages on both sides.

The hallways beyond were dark and poorly lit, covered in lavish tapestries of the Emperor and his subjects and lined with shining suits of armor. The faint candlelight did little to give Cormag a path, but he had walked these once-serene halls so many times and he never stumbled nor groped through the dark as he made his way deeper into the palace. When the corridor forked in two at the end of a large atrium, Cormag never hesitated as he chose the path to his right, vaulting up the stairs and quickly disposing of the clumsy axemen who guarded them.

Cormag wondered how General Duessel was faring. It pained him that he had to leave his general behind, but reaching Emperor Vigarde was his most important goal at the moment. And there was a reason the man had been called the Obsidian: Duessel's defenses had never been shattered, let alone breached by any enemy and he didn't need Cormag to cover his back. By now most of the others had caught up with him, mostly the mounted knights, namely General Seth of Renais and his young protégé, Franz. The two galloped past him with surprising speed, lances thrusting down and out as they cleared the path to the door at the end of the hall while Cormag handled reinforcements from the west.

The key was stolen from the last remaining knight, the door opened and the archers firing down upon them through the murder holes distracted by Gilliam's immovable and impenetrable frame. The bishop on the other side of the door was quickly hewed in half by the warrior Garcia and the two remaining mages pierced through by two well-aimed javelin throws from General Seth. Everyone knew where the next path led to, one that split off in two directions again and the Silver Knight turned back to where Cormag had his back pressed against the left wall. He seemed to recognize what he saw in Cormag's eyes, something he had seen before. The next enemy was not for him to face and Seth directed Garcia to follow him down the right path, away from the throne room.

Taking a deep breath, Cormag peered around the corner into the left hallway, eyes searching frantically. He knew that he would not find Emperor Vigarde there, since there was still one more door to break through. His Majesty had never kept the door to the throne room locked, but by all customs and regulations, there should have been a guard, someone to mount a final defense. But there was only silence and darkness. Cormag saw no reason to wait any longer.

The mistake almost cost him his life, as the second he stepped out into the corridor, foolishly revealing himself, a dark wave of energy sprang up from the floor and enveloped the space to Cormag's right, barely two inches away. Spinning away as a second attack came, Cormag caught sight of his enemy. It was a shaman, who had cleverly disguised himself with magic in the shadows of stone pillar very near the door. Cormag counterattacked with a sharp throw of his javelin, but it struck the ground harmlessly as the shaman spun away back into the darkness.

Fingers dancing wildly across the pages of his spell book, the shaman quickly cast his next spell. The dark magic swirled across his outstretched arm and the attack erupted from the single finger pointed directly at Cormag. His muttering told Cormag that it was a Luna spell, one of the most dangerous and corruptive magics a spellcaster could learn. The six black orbs, crackling with power and tinged with purple, converged on Cormag's location and slammed down upon him. The dark magic threatened to engulf him but Cormag leapt to the side just in time as the attack struck a suit of armor beside him. The black metal exploded in a blinding flash of black light and the shock wave threw Cormag back out into the open. He tumbled to the floor and rose to knees, knowing that the next blow would end him for sure.

Then an arrow shot from the hallway beyond and imbedded itself in the shaman's neck. The man fell to his knees, gurgling and sputtering as blood flowed from his throat. The dying man's eyes found Cormag for the first time and he seemed to recognize him because he reached out for a helping hand from the wyvern rider. But Cormag, quite content to let things play out how fate decided they should, did not grant the man even a single glance. Gray robes turned crimson, the shaman collapsed in a crumpled heap into a pool of his own blood and did not move again.

Quick as flash, the thief Colm was there, darting out furtively from the shadows of a suit of armor. He snatched the brass key still clutched in the shaman's hand and then the door leading to the throne room was open, with Colm vanishing once more.

Cormag reiterated the word in his head as he rose to his feet and made his way for the door, picking up his fallen javelin.

_Open. The door was open._

At last. Nothing stood in his way now.

He would bring he and his emperor peace soon enough.

The first smell he was greeted with upon stepping into the throne room was death. The air was filled with it, a putrid aroma that smelled of putrefaction, rotting flesh and of something that had died long ago. The smell blasted Cormag as he stepped through into the largely vacant throne room. Not even the Imperial Prince Lyon was there, let alone any additional guards. No, the only man present beside himself was the man he had come for. Emperor Vigarde's armored form was seated on his throne, slumped over forward like a thing already half-dead, a soul that appeared to have been clinging to life for far too long. It was an accurate observation because the smell that assailed Cormag's nostrils emanated from His Majesty and the closer Cormag got, the stronger it became. Cormag had never seen the emperor in such a dire state and he hadn't looked this dreadful sense he had fallen ill over a year ago.

But this…this was something entirely different. It wasn't illness that currently plagued Emperor Vigarde. Dark magic swirled about his being, the very same magic that Prince Lyon possessed and the one Cormag had battled against in the halls moments earlier. The vibe Cormag received from it was so horrible and disgusting that it made him want to hurl on the spot.

Emperor Vigarde's eyes were closed and didn't seem to notice or even acknowledge Cormag as the wyvern rider approached. His Majesty's breathing was shallow and erratic, a gasping wheeze that echoed throughout the chamber. He appeared to be sleeping. He looked so pathetic, so weak and defenseless, a ghost of his former self, bereft of the strength that he used to possess. Upon seeing this, Cormag didn't know if he had it in him to kill this man, who was too weak to even sit up properly. A spear was laid across his lap, gripped tightly in both hands.

Cormag knelt before his emperor and looked up at His Majesty's face. It looked withered and worn, blackened and distorted by whatever black magic was controlling him. Cormag could barely even recognize him anymore.

"Your Majesty," Cormag breathed softly, lowering his lance. He would not kill a sleeping man, despite how easy it would be to end this here and now. "Your Majesty, I come before you as a man of character, of honor, one that simply seeks to—"

At the sound of his voice, Emperor Vigarde's eyes shot open and the most horrible, demonic scream Cormag had ever heard escaped from his throat and reverberated throughout the hall, forcing Cormag to cover his ears. It was more of a wailing, a cry of desperation and anguish that begged for release from whatever living hell Emperor Vigarde was currently trapped in. Like a giant beast prematurely disturbed from a long, deep sleep, the emperor raised his spear and leapt from his position on his throne at Cormag in a maddening rage.

Before Cormag had any time to react, the shaft of Vigarde's spear crashed against the side of his head, sending him sprawling to the floor. Scrambling to his feet, Cormag raised his own lance in defense as Emperor Vigarde's next attack came with surprising swiftness and Cormag was barely able to block it with the shaft of his lance. Despite how lightly armored he was compared to Emperor Vigarde, Cormag found it nearly impossible to keep up with his attacks. The black magic spurred Vigarde forward and kept Cormag on the defensive. None of Cormag's training could have prepared him for this moment, both physically and emotionally. There was something incredibly unusual in the way Vigarde fought, his movements far more quick and finesse where they should have been sluggish and uneven.

And how, no matter how many times he had braced for this before, could he have properly steeled himself for a fight with his sworn liege?

Cormag kept the point of his lance forward, batting away the vicious strikes that came from his enemy, moving his arms in a circular motion to keep Vigarde's lance from slipping past. He kept his body low in a protective crouch and desperately wished that he hadn't left Genarog at the gates; taking to the air would have given him a clear advantage.

He wanted to run, to find General Duessel and come back with reinforcements and the strength in numbers, but he was already here and Cormag had sworn that he would bring peace to his emperor. If he tried to turn now, he may never accomplish that goal.

But there was nothing he could do to help his failing situation. Cormag had been an arrogant fool and gotten himself way in over his head. Tana had been right. Emperor Vigarde's strikes were vicious and full hate and unbelievable power. Already Cormag had gotten pierced twice, once in the left side and once more in shoulder. He could barely hold his lance properly as Vigarde struck him again with the butt of his spear, sending Cormag staggering back toward the throne.

Out of desperation, Cormag pulled forth his javelin from his back and hurled at his emperor. The second he had done so Cormag raised his killer lance and blindly charged at Vigarde, picking the spot where he thought Vigarde would dodge the flying spear.

In his maddened and demented state, Vigarde lacked any true form of common sense and Cormag's javelin hadn't even come close to hitting its target. But Emperor Vigarde, risen from the dead only to fight and kill his enemies in whatever means necessary, with his attention devoted solely to the weapon that had nearly struck his left shoulder, sidestepped to his right.

And right into the point of Cormag's lance.

Cormag felt Vigarde's own spear pierce him as well and the pain shot through him like a lightning bolt. The two of them stood frozen there for a moment, Cormag's head bent down and away from the emperor, his arms raised high and pressed against Emperor Vigarde's chest. When Cormag finally worked up the courage to look at his emperor and the lance shaft protruding from his chest, he was shocked at what he saw. Emperor Vigarde's body was disintegrating, the dark magic that possessed it destroyed by the fatal strike that had pierced Vigarde's heart. His Majesty's body simply began to dissolve, to fall apart in nothingness, crumbling into tiny black pieces that floated up into the air and were lost amongst the light of the sun that poured through the glass ceiling.

The head was the last to go and just before it had gone as well, Cormag caught one last glimpse of the expression etched on the emperor's face. In his last moments, that look would never leave his mind. It was a smile, a kind and gentle smile, the same one that Emperor Vigarde had showed Cormag all those years ago when he and his brother had first been taken as soldiers. A look of relief, of tranquility and peace, from a man who was finally taken to where he truly belonged.

Cormag fell to his knees, his lance clattering to the floor and Vigarde's spear still protruding from his chest. The blood, so much of it, streamed from the wound and onto the marble floor. He could vaguely hear the sounds of someone screaming his name from the hallway and making their way towards the throne room, likely Tana or General Duessel. But there was no help for it now. Cormag was finished and in his final hour, he had finally realized something.

The man he had respected for so long had still been there, inside of him and inside of the empty husk that had masqueraded as Vigarde for so long. In whatever madness had driven Emperor Vigarde to begin this war, risen him from the dead as Cormag now understood it, deep down inside there had still been the benevolent heart so many adored him for.

The fight had claimed his life, but Cormag was at peace with himself as he closed his eyes for the final time.

"Your…Majesty," he wheezed. "Now…both…of us…have truly found…"

Cormag never finished as his head hit the floor and then there was nothing but darkness.


End file.
